This morning, L. calls me into the bathroom for help before school..."Mom, how do I get this to work?" He says this, holding up my blow dryer and looking at his wet locks in the steamy mirror, trying to figure out how to dry them after his shower. The terry towel wrapped around his nimble waist trailed behind him onto the floor like a full length bridal veil.
Just to top off this week of independence, L. instructs Daddy to dismantle his training wheels after school on Friday. Once wheels are off, he jumps on, and wobbly rides away. By the time he comes back down the street, his ride is smooth, controlled. He looks like a two-wheel veteran.
In a parallel way, this week mirrors my motherhood journey...many seeds of parental preparation, many nights of wondering, and then in the roar of the hairdryer, they are off...
and every cliche about growing up overnight echos in the clanking of the little silver wheels that take their resting place as they fall to the asphalt driveway.
I can hardly take it all in before I'm barrelling down the street, trying to catch up with the fearless pedaler.
Thank goodness for a three year-old in the house.
T. loves Great-grandfather's trains.
And he loves painting with pine needles.
And the full-body, full-sensory experience of it all.
Since everyone around me is full of firsts and creative spark, I tried something new this week, too. I took a photo and tried turning it into a painting. I spent waaaay too long in Photoshop only to create something that now looks like an out-of-focus, extremely low resolution file.
I think my time might be better spent riding my "two-wheeler."
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